


expresso yourself

by wearing_tearing



Series: Sterek Prompt Fills [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Actor Stiles, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Derek, Fluff, Human Derek Hale, M/M, Oblivious Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 08:17:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2766092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearing_tearing/pseuds/wearing_tearing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek can say he ever expected something like this to happen when he agreed to work at <em>Expresso Yourself</em>, his family’s coffee shop.</p><p>And by that he means he never expected Hollywood’s new favorite actor, Stiles Stilinski, to burst through his doors at seven-thirty in the morning, wide-eyed and scared, with the collar of his shirt ripped off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	expresso yourself

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted from [tumblr](http://dylansneck.tumblr.com/post/104105374669/sterek-i-think-you-missed-your-calling). prompted by [seekoutstarlight](http://seekoutstarlight.tumblr.com/): sterek + "i think you missed your calling"
> 
> **i do not give permission for any of my works to be added to or shared on other websites such as goodreads.**

Derek can say he ever expected something like this to happen when he agreed to work at _Expresso Yourself_ , his family’s coffee shop.

And by that he means he never expected Hollywood’s new favorite actor, Stiles Stilinski, to burst through his doors at seven-thirty in the morning, wide-eyed and scared, with the collar of his shirt ripped off. Nor did Derek expect the crowd of screaming people running after him, their cell phones in hand, trying to get pictures of him. And Derek most definitely _never ever_ expected for Stilinski to slam the door to the coffee shop shut, lock it, and then jump over the wooden counter so he could hide behind it.

So of course that’s exactly what happens right before Derek opens _Expresso Yourself_ that Monday morning.

Because this is his life, and it _sucks_.

*

“ _911, what’s your emergency_?”

“There’s a crowd of people blocking the entrance to my coffee shop,” Derek says flatly. “They have their faces glued to the class and they keep trying the locked door. I’m afraid they’ll damage my property and try to break in.”

“ _Are you alone_?”

Derek looks down at Stilinski, who’s still sitting on the floor and now has his head between his knees. “No, I’m not. There’s another person with me.”

“ _Can you get you two some place safe?_ ”

“Yes,” Derek says, scrubbing a hand over his face. This isn’t how he wanted his morning to go.

“ _Okay, I’m sending someone your way. They should be there in about ten minutes._ ”

“Thanks.”

Derek hangs up and pockets his phone, making sure to glare one more time at the people trying to see inside the coffee shop before turning his back to them.

“Hey,” Derek says, grabbing a few plastic cups from the counter before kneeling down in front of Stiles. He figures if he makes himself look busy, maybe people won’t think Stilinski _really is_ inside. “Are you okay?”

Stilinski doesn’t answer right away, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly before looking up at Derek.

And Derek knows who he is, knows what Stilinski looks like. Laura somehow always manage to include one of his movies whenever they have a movie night with Cora, and he’s been to the Sheriff’s office a few times and seen the pictures of Stiles around the place. So Derek knows about Stilinski’s pale skin dotted with moles, about his upturned nose, about his brown hair that always looks messy, and about his soft pink lips.

He just didn’t think it would _affect him_ , that staring at Stilinski would make him feel like he just got punched right in the gut. But it _does_ , and Derek doesn’t know what to do about it.

“Sorry, I just—,” Stiles says, breaking Derek out of his thoughts. “It’s— I didn’t think anything like that would happen. I mean, it’s _Beacon Hills_. I grew up here. This people have known me since I was a little kid. I thought it was safe for me to walk around, but apparently not.”

Derek winces in sympathy. Derek remembers after the fire how people around town would _stare at him_ , whisper things when he walked into a room. It’s not in the same scale as of what’s happening right now, but Derek can sort of understand it.

“Come on,” Derek says, offering Stilinski a hand. “I already called the cops, they should be here any minute.”

“You _what_?” Stilinski asks him, eyes wide. “That means my _dad_ is going to be here.”

“You can wait for him in my apartment,” Derek tells him. “I told dispatch I’d take us somewhere safe before anyone got here.”

“You— No, it’s okay,” Stilinski shakes his head. “I can wait here.”

“You have blood on your neck,” Derek says, serious. “You don’t want anyone to see you like that.”

Stilinski’s hand comes up to the side of his neck, feeling the red scratch marks there. “Must have happened when they tried to grab my shirt.”

“Ripped your collar, too,” Derek points out. “Now, come on. My apartment’s upstairs. I have a bathroom, a first aid kit and a clean shirt.”

“Just one clean shirt?” Stilinski jokes weakly.

Derek raises an eyebrow at him, waggling his fingers. “Come on.”

Stilinski hesitates, but only for a second.

His palm feels warm and dry against Derek’s when takes Derek’s offered hand.

*

“Thank you for doing this, Derek,” the Sheriff says, mouth tight.

“It’s no problem, sir.”

The crowd loitering outside of _Expresso Yourself_ is gone, and Derek, Stilinski and the Sheriff are at Derek’s apartment, sitting by the dinner table, steaming mugs of coffee in front of them. Stiles is wearing one of Derek’s shirts, a dark grey Henley that’s a little too big and almost falls from one shoulder.

Derek tries not to think about how much he likes that.

“Your name is Derek?” Stilinski asks, perking up in his chair.

“Really, son?” the Sheriff sighs. “The man lets you into his home and you don’t even introduce yourself?”

Derek bites on the inside of his cheek at the offended but also chagrined look on Stilinski’s face.

“That was my mistake,” Derek says. “I was more worried about the crowd outside to make the proper introductions.”

Stilinski sends him a grateful look, and then promptly extends a hand.

“I’m Stiles Stilinski, but you can call me Stiles,” Stilinski — _Stiles_ — says. “Thank you for calling the cops on the people who were chasing me and letting me hide here.”

“Derek Hale,” Derek says, suppressing a shiver when he takes Stiles’s hand and shakes it. “And you’re welcome.”

Stiles gives his hand a squeezing, fingers grazing Derek’s palm when they let go of each other.

“Well,” the Sheriff says. “I think it’s time we should get going. I’m sure you still have things to do before the shop opens.”

“Right,” Derek says, getting up. “Thank you for the help with the crowd, sir.”

“Thank you for taking care of Stiles,” the Sheriff says, clapping him on the shoulder. “Come on, son. I’ll drive you home before I get back to the station.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, fingers curling around the hem of Derek’s Henley when he follows his dad out. “I’ll give this back to you as soon as I can.”

“No rush,” Derek says. “And I’m sorry about your walk.”

“It’s okay,” Stiles waves a hand, smiling a little. “I’m sure I’ll find something else to occupy my time.”

And Stiles does.

Derek just didn’t know that’ll involve him showing up at _Expresso Yourself_ every chance he got.

*

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Cora snaps as the doors open, the bell above it jiggling.

“No swearing in front of the customers,” Derek grumbles. He’s too busy trying to figure out how to make a drink without burning his hand, so he doesn’t notice the way the entire shops goes quiet before everybody breaks into whispers.

That is, until Laura gasps so loud she starts choking. She takes a step back while she coughs, the point of her heel catching Derek’s toe.

Derek hisses under his breath and swears loudly, dropping the coffee cup he’s holding so he can push her away.

“What the _fuck_ , Laura?”

“No swearing in front of the customers!” Cora yells at him, smiling when Derek glares.

Laura doesn’t say anything, just wipes the tears from her eyes and keeps looking straight forward.

Derek frowns at her and turns around, following her line of sight, only to freeze when he realizes just _who_ Laura is staring at.

And by that he means _Stiles Stilinski_ , standing in front of the pastry counter in black jeans and a tight red shirt, his cheeks flushed pink, and a hesitant smile on his face.

“Uh, hi,” Stiles says, lift his hand in an aborted wave.

Laura starts choking again.

*

“Oh, are those mint chocolate cupcakes?” Stiles asks as he makes his way to the counter, eyes glinting.

“You know they are,” Cora says flatly. “You’ve been coming here every day for almost two weeks. You know we sell those a lot.”

Stiles bats his lashes at her. “Don’t lie, you _love_ having me around. I bring excitement into your boring life.”

Derek fails at not finding him cute and agreeing _vehemently_ with what he’s saying, which is why he ducks his head and busies himself with rearranging the cookie display.

Having Stiles around has been… weird, but in a good way.

Stiles always hangs around near the counter, so he can keep a steady conversation with Laura, Cora, one of their baristas, or Derek. They all know to expect him every morning, Erica going to prepare him his coffee before he even manages to open the door to the coffee shop all the way.

Derek doesn’t mind as much as he thought he would, even with the increase of people coming and going, hoping to catch sight of Stiles. But he does offer his apartment whenever Stiles’s mouth tightens and his usually bright smiles turn a little brittle and forced.

They’ve all gotten to know him during this short time, Derek especially.

Derek often follows not long after Stiles goes upstairs, always making sure to bring a pastry with him. They talk during those times, just the two of them, about anything and everything they can think of. It makes Derek warm knowing he sees a side of Stiles the outside world doesn’t, a Stiles that doesn’t have to put up a front or smile all the time, a Stiles that can just be himself.

“You’re a pain in my ass, more like,” Cora rolls her eyes. “We’ve been crowded ever since people realized the _famous_ Stiles Stilinski liked our coffee and food. We had to hire more people to help.”

“You know, some people wouldn’t complain about business going well,” Stiles points out.

“They’re not some people,” Erica pipes up, handing Stiles his usual drink. “They’re _Hales_. You can count on them not having appropriate reactions about _anything_.”

“Oh, really?” Stiles asks, interested.

“No,” Derek says before Erica can open her mouth. “We’re busy, we don’t have time for stories.”

“Why, boss, are you afraid I’ll tell Stiles something embarrassing?” Erica smirks, hip checking Derek.

“Oh, please do,” Stiles says, lips curling up as he looks from Erica to Derek.

“If you want to know about Derek, you should come talk to _me_ ,” Laura says, coming up behind Stiles. “I’ve known him his _entire life_ and bore witness to pretty much every embarrassing thing he ever did.”

Derek should have known that after getting over having one of her favorite actors at their coffee shop, Laura would immediately befriend him. He should have put a stop to it before it happened, but when he tried Laura and Stiles were already bonding over making fools of themselves in front of people they admired and gossiping about the people in Beacon Hills.

“ _No_ ,” Derek repeats, more strongly this time. “I called you in to help us, Laura, not to gossip.”

“I wouldn’t call what we do _gossip_ ,” Laura sniffs, and Stiles nods in agreement.

It’s Derek turn to make a face at them.

“You look like an angry bunny when you do that,” Stiles comments, grinning.

“I— _What_?” Derek sputters, blushing.

“‘S cute,” Stiles tells him, rocking back on his heels. “With the eyebrows and the way your teeth peek out between your lips. I like it.”

Derek blinks at him, not knowing what to say. But he knows he’s turning redder by the minute, though.

“You know what? You’re here all the time,” Cora says, giving Stiles a considering look. “If you’re not going to find the guts to ask Derek out anytime soon, the least you can do is help us. You know, since this whole thing is kind of you fault anyway?”

“Ugh, _Cora_ ,” Stiles groans, scrubbing a hand over his face, only to stop and stare at her. “Wait, you’d teach how to use the espresso machine?”

“You’ve been trying to ask me out?” Derek asks, baffled.

“You’re an idiot,” Erica says, shaking her head at him.

“Hopeless,” Laura adds.

“Kind of?” Stiles asks, shrugging one shoulder.

Derek scowls. “You don’t sound so sure.”

Stiles huffs, looking around the shop before asking, “Can we go upstairs?”

Derek startles a bit, but still says, “Sure.”

“No having sex on the couch,” Cora whispers as they pass her. “I sit there.”

Derek glares at her before following Stiles up, all the while trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach.

“So,” Stiles says once they’re in Derek’s living room.

“You’ve been trying to ask me out?” Derek asks again, mouth dry.

“I’ve been waiting for the right time,” Stiles says softly. “I figured after showing up here for the first time wasn’t it, with catching you off guard and maybe you thinking the date was some sort of ‘thank you’ for helping me hide.”

“Isn’t it?”

“ _No_ ,” Stiles says firmly, taking a step closer to Derek. “It’s _not_ , so that’s why I didn’t. And after that you were always so busy working, because having me around means having everyone that lives in this town around, too.”

“We’re not surrounded all the time,” Derek reminds him, gesturing to the apartment.

“I know,” Stiles nods, giving him a small smile. “But I like spending that time with you. I like talking to you without people around and how you never seem to judge me for what’s coming out of my mouth. You also don’t seem to care about how famous I am or how much money I’m worth. I didn’t want to risk losing that. I didn’t want to ask then in case you said no.”

“I wouldn’t have said no,” Derek mutters, burying his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah?” Stiles asks, coming a bit closer, eyes huge and bright and hopeful.

“You won’t know for sure until you ask,” Derek points out, making Stiles let out a small laugh.

“So,” Stiles drawls, closing the distance between them. “Derek Hale, would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Yes,” Derek says, lips twitching up.

“Oh, good,” Stiles beams, and then frowns. “Do you think this means I can still learn how to make drinks?”

Derek chuckles, curling a hand around the back of Stiles’s neck and rests their foreheads together.

“Whatever you want.”

*

“I think you missed your calling,” Erica says, taking a sip of Stiles’s first official drink.

“Really?” Stiles smiles.

“Let me see,” Laura says, taking the cup from Erica and trying it. Her eyes widen when she takes a drink. “Definitely. This is _really_ good, Stiles. Really _really_ good. Possibly the best coffee I’ve tasted in a while.”

“Thanks,” Erica deadpans.

“After yours, of course,” Laura adds.

“Gimme it,” Cora says, snatching the coffee from Laura. Derek has to fight the urge to smile at the disgruntled look on her face when she drinks it. “I guess it’s alright.”

“You could make a lot of money with this,” Laura tells him.

“I guess I know what I’ll do if I ever stop acting,” Stiles replies, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Don’t interview anywhere else,” Laura points a finger at him. “You’ll have a job here.”

“Don’t all Hale siblings have to agree to take me on for that to happen?” Stiles asks, glancing from Derek to Cora.

“Just don’t bother me while I’m working and we’ll be okay,” Cora says, waving a hand.

“I don’t know,” Derek says when Stiles turns to him. “I haven’t had your coffee yet.”

“I can fix that,” Stiles perks up. “Like, right now.”

Derek watches in amusement as Stiles goes through the motions of making him a drink, just the way Erica taught him.

Soon enough he’s coming up to Derek, a sweet but still hesitant smile on his face when he hands Derek the cup.

Derek makes a show of taking it and bringing it up to his lips slowly, eyes never leaving Stiles’s. You know, until he actually gets a taste of Stiles’s coffee. Then he has to close his eyes and do his best not to moan right then and there.

Something must show on his face, though, because when he opens his eyes it’s to find Stiles right in front of him, now looking extremely pleased with himself and smirking.

“You like it,” Stiles says, poking Derek in the stomach.

“Maybe.” Derek takes another sip, eyes almost slipping close again as he drinks.

“You like it,” Stiles repeats. “So much so you’ll grab us a table while I go make us drinks, and then we’ll have our date right here.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“Yup,” Stiles nods. “What do you say?”

“You know what I say,” Derek murmurs, but goes ahead anyway, “Yes.”

*

“You doing okay?” Stiles asks, cupping Derek’s cheek.

“You know I don’t like these things,” Derek mutters, messing with his tie.

“You always look so good in a suit, though,” Stiles sighs dreamily, leaning into Derek and placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “And this is the last Red Carpet of the year. We’ll have a break before we have to suffer through this again.”

Derek doesn’t like red carpets for a lot of reasons — the flashes, the shouting questions at him and Stiles, the noise, all the people, having to wear _suits and a ties_. He especially doesn’t like them because, even after three years together, reporters still make a big deal about how Derek and Stiles fell in love in a coffee shop while Stiles was having some down time between films.

Not that it isn’t a big deal, because it very much is. To _Derek_.

Having Stiles break into his shop and hide behind the counter was probably one of the best things that ever happened to him, but still.

Derek doesn’t like how other people make a show of it, like they have any rights to their story.

“Great,” Derek huffs, shoulders slumping a little.

“C’mere,” Stiles says, moving his hand to Derek’s hair so he can bring Derek to him.

Derek goes, feeling himself relax at the first touch of Stiles’s lips against his. Stiles still tastes the same as he did when they had their first kiss, of candy and coffee and mint, and it’s the easiest thing in the world for Derek to open his mouth and let Stiles deepen the kiss.

“Better?” Stiles asks when he pulls back, mouth red.

“Yeah,” Derek says, rubbing their noses together.

“Ready to face the music?”

“Promise to make it up to me later?” Derek raises an eyebrow at him.

“You know it, baby,” Stiles breathes out, stealing a quick kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Derek says, and he doesn’t even mind all the flashes very much as they climb out of the limousine.

At least not when he has Stiles’s warm and dry palm against his own.


End file.
